Of Rum and Leather and the Salt Sea Air
by foreverstartsrightnow
Summary: Red never expected to find love again. But she also never expected to meet Captain Hook. Based on a tumblr prompt. Rated M just to be safe. One-Shot.


**Pairings:** Red/Ruby and Captain Killian Jones

**Rating:** M (just to be safe, nothing super explicit)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Once Upon a Time.

**A/N:** This took a ridiculously long time to write and tbh I'm nervous to post it. I've never written an exclusively non-Emma pairing before and this has zero Emma. It's also my first attempt at writing pre-curse FTL. Also, just a precursor: I do not have any plans to continue this as of right now.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The bar was always crowded on Saturday nights; when the ships would come to port and the men whose lives had not yet succumbed to the mistress of the oceans drank and laughed and had their way with women of the night.

No one dared approach Red, sitting in a lone corner of the bar week after week, with her vibrant cloak spilling around her like a pool of blood. She didn't need to wear it now; Wolfstime had long since passed and she'd long since discovered a way to control the raging violence the moon unleashed upon her each month. What she hadn't learned to control was the unshakable inner war she battled every time she thought of him, and of her old life.

Snow told her it was nothing, it would pass. "Maybe just go for a run. That should help clear your head."

But Red left the nursery of the unborn princess with a knot in the pit of her stomach and the need to lose herself completely. This was a self-hatred that twisted and burned and threatened to overtake her every moment of every day. She couldn't expect her friend to understand. Snow had lost loved ones, certainly, but now she had the chance to begin anew. With the kingdom secured, a brave and dashing husband on her arm, and a little one on the way, sorrow simply wasn't a part of her vocabulary.

It wasn't even a question as to why she drew looks from the other patrons as she stalked into the pub. Many knew her as the Queen's confidant and a leading warrior in the war against the King's father, though few had ever seen her in the flesh.

So she sat alone night after night, swallowing each burning mouthful of liquor slowly, the pain a welcome distraction from heartache.

* * *

They docked under a blanket of darkness thickened with fog. All it took was a few shillings to the captain of port and the ship was safely moored at the end of the yard. The trek into town was short and soon the crew found an inn full of women who were priced well enough and kegs overflowing with ale.

But the Captain wasn't interested in any kind of companionship one could buy. In fact, it had been so long since he'd taken a lover, longer than he could remember. He bit back the memories that flooded toward him, instead focusing his attention on the debauchery his men quickly fell into before him.

Then he spied her from across the crowded room; her black hair falling in a lush waterfall of curls and braids offset by the searing red of her cloak. Her face was angular and canine-like in a peculiar yet familiar way. She was most certainly alone, this he'd come to observe over a period of time, not that he found it surprising, considering who he suspected her to be. And not only that, but he'd never seen a woman look quite so beautiful or so utterly melancholy. Not since a night, similar to this one, nearly three hundred years before…

He kept his eye on the woman nursing a large ale, looking for an opportune moment to intervene. When she rose at last to approach the bar, he jumped up, ignoring cries of protests from his shipmates and the women settled on their laps. He slunk to the table she had claimed as her own and sat, keeping his lame hand under cover. It wasn't his aim to frighten her, but he if he were to have a proper go at her, he would need to prevent her from seeing it. For a few moments, at least.

"Excuse me, this is my table."

He grinned as her voice sounded behind him. "Is it? I'm sorry, love, I didn't notice." As he turned to smile up at her, he was met with a disdain that was evidence his wiles would not be mollifying her into his hand just yet. Time for a new approach. "Don't look so dour, it was a simple mistake. And now that I'm here, why don't we make the best of it, hm?" He extended his hand and flashed a rakish grin. "Captain Jones. Though you may call me Killian."

"It wasn't a mistake," she retorted and refused his hand, her lips pressing into a thin line as her grip tightened on the mug. He couldn't be certain if the thing was simply too heavy for her to hold up with one arm, or if she was preparing to strike him with it. "Don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me all night."

"Ah, and the only way you'd have seen that is if you were guilty of the same, little duck," he mused as he retracted his limb and felt a swell of pride in eliciting the shade of pink blossoming on her cheeks.

She let out a short breath, attempting to maintain her composure. "Well I'm not a whore, if that's what you're thinking."

"Come now, love, I know you're not," he insisted and leaned forward in the chair, keeping his hook obscured by the table. "I can tell another lost soul when I see one."

"Oh, and what does a pirate know of souls? I've heard stories of good merchant ships and entire villages being laid to waste by men like you." The blush of her cheeks deepened with rage and Hook relished the idea of finding a third way to raise her pulse and bring blood rushing to her skin.

"You think you're the only one who's heard stories, love?" He began to rise slowly, revealing the reflective surface of his hook. The woman's eyes darted toward the extremity but she remained defiant in a way that reminded him of his pirate queen, igniting a flame in his belly as he inched toward her. "What about the tale of a girl who turned into a wolf once every full moon and killed the only man who ever loved her?"

He was towering over her now and licked his lips at the sheer proximity. He always fancied himself a walk on the precipice of danger, and now that the girl standing wide-eyed with her mouth agape had all but confirmed that he'd guessed correctly, his entire body thrummed at the chance to partake in something so deliciously savage.

"Well if you know who I am, then you'll also know I am the Queen's right hand," she snarled and straightened her posture in an attempt to meet him at eye level, "So don't even think about overstepping your bounds, _Captain Hook_, because she'll have the entire King's Guard after you so fast you won't even be able to blink."

Her words may have wounded a lesser man, but to Killian, the gauntlet had been thrown. "Well if you do have the ear of the Queen as you are so hasty to proclaim, then I suppose I shall take my leave," he vowed with a smirk, then turned and sauntered back to his crew.

* * *

Red huffed and took her seat, watching the rake slide in next to a scrappy-looking rotund man with a drunken wench on his lap. She quickly looked away as his eyes darted toward her and took a long gulp from her mug.

What had begun simply as an evening to get out of her own head had introduced her to a man whose sole intentions were to drag every miserable detail of her past to the surface. She finished the ale quickly and motioned to a barmaid for another, not wanting to risk leaving the table and opening herself up to his lecherous attention.

Mug after mug seemed to empty themselves in front of her, and soon the barmaid was refusing to serve her at the request of the owner. Red scoffed and crossed her arms, sitting back haughtily in her chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling dizzy from the alcohol, but not so much that she couldn't have just one more drink.

"Still too good for me, lass?" Her unwelcome guest had returned, and Red opened her eyes reluctantly as a drink slid its way towards her, nudged along by the gleaming hook.

She laughed bitterly and fingered the glass. "What is this?"

"Rum," he replied cheerfully, taking a seat across from her and drawing a long sip from his own. "Go on, drink up. It'll put hair on your chest. Not that I'd really want that."

She smirked and flashed her eyes at him before bringing the glass to her. It smelled sweet with a hint of spice, not at all like the ales or clear liquors she was used to. Hook watched her intently as she tipped the vessel upwards and took a sip. She swallowed hard, strangely enjoying the familiar sting in her throat.

It wasn't clear to her whether the alcohol had overtaken her senses or if she was becoming keen on her strange suitor. She looked the man over, his lean leather-clad form inclined towards her with his head cocked to the side, revealing a garishly large diamond earring that flashed brightly despite the lack of light.

The sensation of his rough fingers running along her forearm caused her eyes to dart downward, noticing again the silver hook that peaked out from inside his stiff leather cuff.

"So what happened to your hand?" The words tumbled rudely from her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She was already past the point of being able to get herself back to the castle; her last hope being that there might be a spare room at the inn above the bar left unoccupied.

Killian's eyes grew dark and he looked away. "You're not the only one with demons, love."

His response took her by surprise and Red found herself looking at him differently than she had before. Maybe she'd been a little hard on him before, maybe their chance meeting could offer each of them some well-deserved refuge.

Maybe she wanted to be reckless for once, and not in the way she was used to.

She reached across the table and took his hand hesitantly. Looking up at her with just his eyes, Red felt a rush of heat through her body unlike anything she'd felt before. This was raw and animalistic, so unlike the joyful swelling of her heart when she'd kissed her love.

Her touch seemed to have the same effect on Killian. He shifted in his seat and curled his fingers around hers, and before she could process what was happening, he was pulling her behind him. The sudden movement was enough to make her head spin and she stumbled forward, griping the leather of his overcoat tightly. He turned swiftly and caught her firmly by the waist and held her upright.

"Someone's a wee bit anxious, hm?" His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered, trying to keep her feet moving as steadily as possible. "How about we get you into a bed before you fall and break your pretty little neck?"

She vaguely processed the argument between her escort and the Innkeeper, but soon she was whisked away to a room on the second floor. It was none too clean, but Red didn't mind. The years prior to winning back the kingdom she lived on the run, and many of those cold nights were spent huddled close to Snow for warmth in far worse places.

He pressed her to the door and hiked up her skirt. She winced as she felt the cold metal of his hook scrape along the inside of her thigh, and was surprised when he flicked his wrist, rubbing the blunt edge of the attachment against her.

"Killian…" she moaned, never having felt something so utterly strange yet so completely wonderful. The rush of pleasure that jolted through her body sobered her at once. She pushed his coat to the floor before attacking the buttons of his shirt, not caring that the hook that had previously caused her great pleasure was now running up her back, splitting the laces of her corset, leaving her in her nearly topless in her flimsy chemise.

As they stumbled to the bed, Killian's lips went to her collarbone and trailed a line of burning kisses up her throat and across her jaw, but when he neared her mouth, she jerked her head involuntarily to the side.

"Not there," she panted. Her body burned with desire for him, but her lips would forever belong to another man.

"Well alright then," he responded with a smirk and resumed his assault on her throat, licking and suckling at the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

The rest of their clothes were quickly shed, and Red found herself writhing and clawing at his back with each fervent movement. She didn't care about leaving long, red welts across his skin, he'd certainly left his own marks on her neck along with a series of scrapes on the outside of her thigh from where he attempted to latch on with his hook for support.

Feeling another wave of pleasure rush to her gut, she dug her nails deep into his shoulders, eliciting a cry from the Captain as he thrust hard into her one final time. He collapsed on top of her and Red ran her fingers through his coarse hair.

As she lull of sleep overtook her, she heard Killian mumble something about his ship and felt his body weight leave her. Her eyes popped open and she reached for him, gripping him by the elbow and pulling him back down. She knew what this was. She knew he wouldn't stay, but she couldn't let him leave. So she brushed her lips against his and allowed him to consume her. Her stomach churned, but she knew this was the only way. He mumbled again about it being unimportant and his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against him.

"Tell me about another world…" she pleaded, tucking her head under his chin.

"There's a land…" he began. "Where you can never grow old. Where the most beautiful creatures are also the most deadly. Where the seas are calm and the only requirement to soar like a bird is to think happy thoughts."

"Did you ever fly?"

He fell silent for a moment. "No," he said at last. "I'm afraid I haven't had a happy thought in nearly three hundred years."

"Sometimes I feel it's been as long for me."

He was stroking her hair, now, in a way that felt somehow more intimate than they had just been. "You know, we're quite a pair, you and I."

"Perhaps we are." Her eyes fluttered closed and soon she was lost to dreams of mermaids and Indians and the wide, open sea.

A noise jolted her awake and Red quickly realized it was the clicking of the latch on the door. She glanced around, finding nothing but morning light streaming in from the shaded window and her wrinkled dress and cloak folded neatly over the back of a chair.

He left. Not that she was entirely surprised, but the mild ache his absence left in her heart informed her that he wouldn't soon be forgotten. No, she told herself, he wasn't the type of man worth being hung up on. He was a cheap imitation for the real thing. But their night together also served as an awakening to the life she had been ignoring for so long. Her life.

She smiled, breathed in deep and rose to dress herself and face the day with the scent of spiced rum, worn leather, and a hint of salt still clinging to the air.

* * *

There was something different about this one, but it wasn't in his nature to stay. The only woman he'd ever been with more than once…

Well, he didn't want to think of her right now. Not after what he'd just done.

And it didn't matter anyway; he hadn't come back to the Enchanted Forest to take a lover. His lust for vengeance far outweighed anything that might afford him the opportunity to find someone new, not when he was so close to finding the key.

He walked swiftly through the small seaside village back to the Jolly Roger and found his crew moving sluggishly after the night spent drunk and depraved. But his first mate had come through for him, leading him to the prison tower within the castle of an Evil Queen that held a woman believed to have intimate knowledge of his foe.

It was never his intention to get caught up in the seemingly petty battle between a daughter and her mother but since his only lead had proven a dead end, and unable to free himself from their binds, he found himself standing on an island next to the Queen of Hearts as the sky turned purple and the world around them was destroyed.

After the sheer annoyance at having to wait another 30 years for revenge slowly faded, his first thought was of Red. He hoped that wherever the curse took her she was safe, that she could be happy. He wasn't lying when he said they made quite a pair, and perhaps, in some other life, in some other world, they could find a way.

* * *

Saturday nights were all she had. Between waiting tables upwards of fifty hours a week and helping keep up the inn; Ruby had little time to do much else.

Her rotation of men left her satisfied physically, but as she stumbled home from Billy's apartment above the auto shop at 2 a.m., she felt a pang of nostalgia for a life she'd never had. Often, she'd find her wobbly legs carrying toward to the marina, a place she never had any business being in daylight. The dock bowed beneath her weight, and she breathed in the salty air hungrily as she pulled a small flask from her purse. The scent of spiced rum stung her nostrils before she took a swig.

It was strange, really; she kept the flask with her always, but only ever felt the urge to drink from it when she was sitting on the edge of the dock with her feet dangling in the cool water.

The sky was clear and an entire universe of stars shown brightly above her. She smiled lazily, wondering if anyone had ever tried to count them all.

Her phone began to vibrate, bringing her out of her reverie. Granny never failed to call her every time she was out, even knowing nothing bad ever happened in the small town. Instead of answering, she shoved the device back into her purse, along with the flask and made her way back up the dock, cursing her life and dreaming of someone to take her away.

* * *

After the shock wore off, after the tearful reunions, after things had finally seemed to settle down, Ruby realized that despite having her friends back in her life, she was still alone. She watched as Snow and Charming linked hands and disappeared toward the apartment together, Ella and Thomas still busy with their daughter, and even Granny was happily serving a crowd of rowdy dwarves.

But Peter was still gone. And Billy was gone. And where could that Killian be?

No, not him, she decided. If they hadn't crossed paths in the 28 years spent under the curse, there was no need to seek him out now, and what if he hadn't made it…

She shook her head and excused herself from the diner, not that anyone had noticed. After wandering aimlessly for a spell, she looked up to find herself back at the marina. Smiling weakly, she hopped the gate and wandered down, letting her fingers glide along the wood and rope and canvas of the boats that lined dock.

Taking her familiar perch at the end of the pier, she shivered at the cold water against her skin. The stars were bright, as they had been on every cloudless evening she spent here. She lay back, letting the salt air seep into her pores, infusing her with that all-too-familiar feeling.

Then she noticed a strange orange star in the sky to the South. It seemed to shimmer and grow brighter with each passing moment. But Ruby shrugged it off, blaming it on her emotionally and physically exhausted state. She let her eyes flutter closed, unconcerned with her choice of resting place.

When rays of sunlight brought her back into consciousness, she was taken aback to find a blurry face hovering over her. At first she assumed it must be Grumpy or one of the other men who worked down at the harbor. But as the overwhelming aroma of leather and rum flooded her oversensitive nostrils, her heart began to race. The piercing blue eyes, scraggly beard, the glint of a diamond earring slowly coming into focus…

"Hello, love."


End file.
